


A Drunk, Newly Married Couple

by defyinggravitee



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Cecil, Drunk Sex, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, PWP, Top Carlos, True Love, Wedding Night, honestly this is like, seventy percent me waxing poetic about their love, thirty percent porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8917210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defyinggravitee/pseuds/defyinggravitee
Summary: Stay tuned next for a drunk, newly married couple, long after the well-wishers have left, having sex for the first time as husband and husband.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My OTP is married, y'all. This calls for a celebration, in the form of porn. Happy Cecilos wedding, everyone. <3

They're drunk on each other as much as on champagne. 

Cleaning up the banquet hall takes twice as long as it should, even with the help of guests who stayed behind, because they can't stop giggling and kissing, intoxicated by each other's presence and the newfound reality of _husbands_. Truthfully, the Erikas do most of the work, but they don't seem to mind, because even beings-who-are-definitely-not-angels can't begrudge the newlyweds their happiness.

Josie offers them a ride back to their apartment, but they decline, preferring to stumble their way home with their arms around each other like teenagers, the touch hindering their progress but worth the warmth and comfort it provides.

When they finally make their way inside, after significant struggle with the lock (it doesn't help that it keeps evaporating and reappearing on different parts of the door, as it often does when it's feeling ornery), they hold hands on the way to the bedroom, only breaking contact to pull off their formalwear and leave it in inelegant heaps on the floor.

They're on the mattress in seconds, Cecil collapsing on top of Carlos with little coordination and lots of enthusiasm. They've done this so many times before, in this very room and on this very bed and a few times at this very level of drunk, but tonight feels different, their first time with rings around their fingers and bloodied paperwork on file in city hall. Their first married sex, their first night of many. 

"Hey, guess what," Cecil whispers, or rather, says at regular volume intoned as though it is a whisper. Volume control is not Cecil's strength when he's drunk.

"What?"

"You're my husband."

Carlos grins and runs his fingers through Cecil's hair. "You're _my_ husband."

"We're husbands now."

"Yeah, we are."

"That's pretty fucking great."

Carlos kisses him. "The most fucking great."

"Speaking of fucking…" Cecil waggles his eyebrows suggestively, the motion cartoonishly exaggerated. Carlos laughs, but there's longing in his eyes.

"Come here, husband," Carlos says, and pulls him down into a fierce kiss, sloppy but deep, full of tongue and the scraping of teeth. Both of them groan in unison, their bodies pressed together, their thoughts entwined like their limbs. It is impossible to think of anything but now, anything but this, this sliver of time between a ceremony not twelve hours past and the consummation therein, a physical expression of words said at the altar, of sentiments shared at the reception.

Cecil grabs Carlos' hands and moves them from his waist to his ass, and Carlos gropes it enthusiastically. There's no technique tonight, only drunken ecstasy, and it suits the mood perfectly. Carlos thrusts up into Cecil, slides their cocks together in an arrhythmic pattern, in asymmetrical shapes. Cecil sits up and presses his hands to his husband's chest, letting his body be supported by the love of his life just as his soul so often is.

"Mmmm, I wanna ride you," Cecil says, words slurring, hips still rolling against Carlos'. "I wanna ride you every night for the rest of our lives, until our fleeting hours of existence expire and fade into nothingness, until our finite breaths run out and we dissolve into oblivion together."

"You're so eloquent drunk," Carlos says. "It's hot. You're hot."

Cecil reaches for the bedside table, where their collection of lube and condoms and toys lives, but Carlos smacks his hand away.

"Let me," he says, and he grabs their favorite bottle of sunshine-scented lube, a specialty of Night Vale's adult store, which only appears on new moons and federal bank holidays. It glows golden and smells lovely, and it's his and Cecil's favorite.

Both of them are practiced enough at prepping each other that even in a drunken haze, Carlos knows what to do, muscle memory guiding him to Cecil's sweet spots as Cecil writhes in pleasure above him. This is the advantage of long-term relationships; after the thrill of newness wears off, it fades gently into familiarity, into the intimacy of knowing another person so well, body and soul, as to be instinctual to one another, joined in all the right places to know when to reach for favorite actions and when to spice things up. 

They have a lifetime of this ahead of them, passionate nights and sleepy mornings and spontaneous afternoon rendezvouses; the future stretches out before them and for once, it is not filled with terror, not filled with darkness, or at least not entirely so. Because in this, in the constancy of one another, the dependability of love, is a foundation and a strength upon which to build their worlds. 

Once Carlos has stretched Cecil out enough to be comfortable, to be ready for him, he slides his fingers out, and Cecil grabs for his cock, eager to have Carlos inside him.

"You're so needy," Carlos breathes, laughing just a little.

"You're what I need," Cecil answers, and he takes Carlos' hand in his as he pulls his husband's cock inside him, and Carlos has no complaints, feels only familiar pleasure at the delicious tightness of Cecil's ass.

Cecil rides him slowly at first, prompting repeated moans from Carlos as he goes. His pace does not so much build as switch gears suddenly, as the brushing of Carlos' cock against his prostate pushes him from eager to desperate. The mattress squeaks and shakes as Cecil rides his scientist roughly, their hands untwining so Cecil can place both his hands back on Carlos' chest.

Cecil begins clenching his muscles around Carlos' cock, one of Carlos' favorite things, and Carlos cannot last much longer, is so turned on by the gorgeous radio host he's proud to call his own that he can't hold himself back. He comes not long after, and Cecil gasps as Carlos spills hot inside him, filthy and intimate all at once.

There's a towel in the bedside table, too, a kitschy one meant for a kitchen that says "Home is where the heart is, pulsing dark and bloody on the counter. You should probably clean that up." It's soft, though, and Carlos uses it to clean Cecil up a bit before pulling him by his hips to straddle Carlos' face. Carlos licks up the cum that's dripped down Cecil's thighs, and Cecil whines with need, and Carlos, compliant, takes Cecil into his mouth.

He sucks with the lazy energy of a recently sated man, but Cecil is on the edge, and soon he's the one coming inside Carlos, the other man swallowing instinctually around him. Cecil falls carelessly off him, banging his head on the headboard on the way down.

"Ow," he says, a look of surprise on his face.

Carlos laughs at the expression, and soon Cecil is laughing too, and the moment is perfectly imperfect, a beautiful precedent for a lifetime of marriage.

They fall asleep cuddling face to face, neither of them bothering to get up and brush teeth or put on pajamas. It takes them a while to close their eyes, despite their mutual exhaustion, because neither of them can tear their eyes from the other's face, can stop drinking in the sight of the man they love.

When they finally drift off into dreams, all of them pleasant thanks to Tamika's wedding present of seven nights of nightmare immunity, the moon shines in through the curtains to light their sleeping forms. It shines over the town, over city hall and Big Rico's Pizza and Dark Owl Records, and its beauty seems to radiate just for them, for the newlyweds who have found a home in both the town and in each other. For this moment, at least, Night Vale rests in perfect bliss.


End file.
